


A Wolf at the Door

by siboney



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Romance, Sarcasm, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-08
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 00:45:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3508829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siboney/pseuds/siboney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Hawke is a man on a mission - find the notorious Lily Killer, who claimed the life of his mother. With the help of his friends, he works together with the guard forces to maintain a balance in the chaotic city of Kirkwall, while hunting for the wicked serial killer. But his life only gets more complicated, with the introduction of mysterious Fenris, a slave on the run, and the troubles he brings with him. He does his best to maintain some sense in this world, while protecting those he loves and trying to find his own peace.</p><p>As his life changes, perhaps, finally his future will promise him some real happiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distant steps

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU story, with a more futuristic/modern setting. I will try involve canon elements in the story as much as possible, even though the layout is different. I try to keep the characters as canon as possible. The length of the story I guess will depend on the interest in the story. Chapters will get longer after this introductory chapter.
> 
> I am not native English speaker, so would like to find a beta to read the chapters for any grammar mistakes, suggestions etc.
> 
> The name of the fic comes from a Radiohead song of the same name.

Kirkwall was a very important city-state – a home for the bustling trading business with the rest of Thedas. But it was also a city rumbling with danger. The underbelly of it all had been whispering with unease for quite a while. Many powers were wrestling for the control of the city – the one on top would hold many keys. The TEMPLAR order, the soldiers supervising the mages and the rest of the city, and the Circle, the organization of mages constrained within the gallows, but in reality running their veins through the dark corners of the city, were the main candidates for the control. The governing viscount was struggling to not become nothing more than a puppet figure. And in the midst of the chaotic ordeal, the city guard forces tried to maintain order among the common people. What would come out of all of it?

Hawke didn't care. At least for now. He never had much interest in the political circus. Didn't matter who was in control, usually the little man always suffered. He was working with the guard forces to help maintain the order in the city. They were underfunded and spread short as it is, so they often relied on the help of hired mercenaries. Thanks to his close friendship with the Guard Captain Aveline Vallen he had become a more or less a permanent fixture in the law forces. He liked to consider himself a consultant of sorts, and also to think he did a good job cleaning the gutters of the city, with the help of his merry friends. Albeit he didn't always work through strictly legal channels, the work spoke for itself and the guards were willing to look at his methods through their fingers. Not that it mattered either way if he lost their support... he had his own personal mission, and he was ready to do whatever it would take to achieve his goal. To catch a killer.

Hawke's hands balled into fists just at the thought of him. The Lily Killer. Under his usual, seemingly never ending good spirits and sarcasm brew bitter hate. He'd catch him even if it was the end of him. His mother's killer. The man who destroyed his family, just as he had destroyed her. The image of his mother's mutilated body, parts ripped apart and sewn back together like a macabre marionette... Hawke shook his head. No, he didn't want those images in his head now. He had other matters to attend to. Work called. He had made his way to Hanged Man, a seedy bar and his usual watering hole. But he was not after the comfort of alcohol tonight. He was here to meet his long time friend Varric, who was renting one of the rooms upstairs.

“You wanted to see me?” Varric stepped back from the door as Hawke walked in.

“Yes, I received a message earlier today. I thought you might find it interesting. An anonymous tip about slavers operating in the slums. I asked Isabela to trace it, but she said it only lead to dead ends. Whoever it was, did their homework. And also offered a generous reward.” Varric stated, walking back to his computer and plopped back down on the chair. Beside the machine was an opened bottle of golden coloured liquid and a half empty glass – Antivan whiskey, Hawke guessed. He raised an eyebrow and gave Varric a curious glance, before considering his friend's words. “Slavers, eh? You'd think they had learned already that their kind tend to... expire rather quickly in these parts” he grinned, thinking back to the last time they ran into slavers – none had, unfortunately, made it alive to bookings at the guard station. Varric returned his wicked smile. Neither of them had much sympathy for the criminals, who like cockroaches still found their way back to the city even though slavery was illegal in all countries except for Tevinter. Always ready to prey on the most vulnerable ones, despite the risks.

“Beats me. Could be that they have a death wish. I suppose we should show them just how welcome they are here. But we got to keep alert – something about this just smells funny. I'm sure this tipster, whoever it is, has their own motives.” The dwarf stated, then finished his drink in one gulp. He grimaced for a second at the strong burn running down his throat. The Rivaini sure knew her alcohol. He walked over to the bed of his small suite and reached under it to pull out a large weapon case. He slammed it on the table and pulled out his precious Bianca, a mean looking double barreled shotgun. “Shall we? Isabela is waiting for us near the location. I contacted Anders, but he's busy at the clinic tonight. What about asking Junior to tag along? We need more manpower.”

Hawke gave it a thought and nodded. He pulled out a phone from his pocket and dialed Carver. His little brother had been rather moody lately and complaining about being left out when Hawke went on one of his jobs with the rest of his companions. “Good idea. And maybe he'll cool off a bit this way, he's been such a pain lately,” he mulled, catching the sympathetic glance Varric gave him. The dwarf knew the brothers didn't have it easy. Too many members of the Hawke family had been lost in the recent years and only lately things had seemed to get better. As Hawke told his brother where to meet him, he and his short friend made their way outside the bar and continued towards the slums.

Even though he was busy bantering and joking with Varric, Hawke couldn't help the feeling in the back of his mind telling that this night would be a very important one.


	2. A Knock on the Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, still a short chapter. It will get longer after this I promise, now that introductions have been dealt with.
> 
> And - anyone who'd be willling to be a beta, please let me know.

The man left out a pained guttural moan as Hawke pulled his dagger out of his gut. Even though he was a mage, it was always good to have another line of defense in the case that the enemies managed to escape the gusts of fire or whatnot he sent their way. This particular enemy had made his way through his defenses, a rather dexterous fellow for a common slaver, and when Hawke found the man at his side, he grabbed the long knife tucked in his belt and in a blurry of motion it found its way into the man's stomach. Isabela had taught Hawk where to hit to get the deadliest outcome with minimal effort. Blood rose on his lips after a few short breaths and he fell limp on the ground. Hawke stared at the dead figure for a moment. Something inside him was gnawing at him for not feeling sympathy or guilt, but he brushed those feelings aside quickly. This was life. Reality. These people deserved none of his sympathies. They would be saced for the innocent ones.

He glanced around him. All the slavers were finished off and he and his friends gathered together at the center of the slum's square. Most of them had some few minor cuts and wounds, but all seemed to be in high spirits. Without a word, he went around healing them. His healing skills were very primitive compared with those of Anders', but none of the injuries were of serious nature - Maker bless their fighting skills - so he was able to tend to the minor cuts and gashes. Isabela grinned at him as she thrust her twin pistols back into their holsters in a relaxed manner. 

“Everyone's dead?” Hawke asked and his brother nodded.

“Yep, everyone's dealt with. But don't you think it's weird? They were not your normal slimy slavers, these guys had way more skill. And they were dressed better,” Carver voiced his thoughts and Varric joined him. “Indeed. Hawke I don't know what the game is here, but these people were not just the random scum looking for a easy way to riches.”

A sudden voice with a foreign accent through broke their conversation.

“You're quite right, serah, and I would advice to cease any further resistance. I don't know who you are but you made a serious mistake coming here. Lay down your weapons and we may let you live,” the voice echoed through the empty square, laced with the arrogance of authority.

“What the hell," Isabela voiced as they all whipped around to look at the lone figure ascending the straits of the alley leading to the square.

“Such a generous offer! But I'm going to pass, sorry if that hurts your sensibilities,” Hawke snorted as he felt the mana gather in his arms, surging towards his opened palms, ready for a fight. He saw his friends follow the suit, readying their weapons.

Before the man could respond him, a sudden commotion behind him drew all of their attention. A soldier, one of the slaver's men by the looks, stumbled down the stairway holding his throat, which was bleeding profusely. “Captain,” a sole gasp escaped from him before he collapsed. He was holding his throat, but to his avail blood was still running liberally down his front as he collapsed on the ground face first.

“What the -” The man in charge echoed Isabela's earlier statement before stepping back, looking rather rattled. Hawke's eyes were fixed on the staircase and followed the figure that suddenly came into view. In the dim light he could see several splatters of blood colouring the man from head to toe. But that was not the interesting part.

The man, who appeared to be Elven, approached the slaver. “All your men are dead. I suggest running back to your master while you can,” he growled in a low voice. The slaver gasped in disbelief, staring at the elf. His face turned into an expression of anger. “You're going nowhere slave! We have orders to bring you back to Danarius!” He shouted and raised his gun, a second too late. In an instant a glow illuminated his chest and pierced him. A gun went off and the bullet ricochet off the stone walls. A sickening crack of bones echoed in the silence. The mysterious man withdrew his hand from the slaver's chest with a wet sound. He slightly shook his hand, several pieces of gore alongside a dead heart discarded on the dirty pavement.

“I am not a slave,” the elf growled, a feral tinge animating his voice. 

A total silence followed, everyone too stunned for a minute to react. This sure was not what they expected. They knew, with the mysterious tipster, this was not a normal “whack the slavers” job but still – glowing tattoos and ripped out hearts? 

“I apologize. I did not realize that the outcome tonight would be so numerous. I did not wish to endanger you so. I am glad that you turned out the be so skilled. I see I chose wisely.” He said, as he made his way down the stairs and stood in front of Hawke. He was carrying a broadsword almost as tall as himself, which was highly unusual in the time and age. Most people just relied on guns. But in close combat, swordmanship was very useful. Granted, the stranger also had a sub machine gun hanging on his belt - mostly for ranged defense Hawke guessed.

Hawke gave himself a moment to eye the surprise quest to their slave killing party up and down more closely. He was an elf, but unusually tall for one, even though shorter than Hawke. He had strikingly bright white hair and tattoos running all over his body. His armour was unusual, the leather only covering part of his arms unlike the whole body armours most mercenary types preferred. White tattoos were visible in these gaps, running up and down his arms like vines. His hands were covered in sharp talon like gauntlets. A handsome face with strong, sharp yet delicate features. Large, intelligent green eyes observed Hawke's every movement. Overall, Fenris was intriguing – and troubled. Just the way Hawke liked his companions. He resisted the grin ghosting on his lips.

“Allow me to explain. I am Fenris. These men were bounty hunters looking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. That is why I asked for your help – there were too many of them and I couldn't face them myself. I apologize for the deceit.”

“So I guess I'm right to assume you were to one who sent the message” Hawke asked rhetorically and raised his eyebrow. He shifted his weight from one leg to another and studied curiously the man called Fenris. Sure, he seemed like an intimidating fellow, even without the blood splattered all over him. Maybe Hawke had become softer as he grew older, he found himself thinking amused, but he felt the urge to help the elf. Hell, all of the people in his circle of friends, himself included, needed help in a way or another.

“Yes,” Fenris admitted simply and grossed his arms in wait for the group's reaction.

“You escaped then? But tell me, I've seen plenty of slavers and some slaves too. This seems like a high scale operation. Why are so many slavers after one person?” Hawke avoided calling the elf a slave. He hated that word. The last years he had spent in Ferelden, his homeland, in the midst of war, had taught him how precious freedom is.

“I... I am no ordinary slave. See these lines?” He lifted his left arms up for all of them to see, and suddenly the markings decorating it flamed bright blue. All of them stared at the sight in a mixture of surprise and intrigue. Surely, it was not an ordinary sight. “It's lyrium. I'm worth more than my weight in gold. In the end, my former master is willing to see the flesh stripped of my bones, if it means the return of his precious property.” Fenris sneered bitterly and his skin flashed bright once more before he let his arm fall next to his side.

“That sounds like a total waste of a handsome elf,” Hawke quipped before he could stop himself. Damn him and his mouth! Carver nudged him in the side forcefully as he heard Fenris let out an embarrassed mixture of a cough and a chuckle. Isabela let out a snort in the bacground, muttering "Real smooth, Hawke," more to herself than to anyone else.

“I think a fellow like yourself would be useful, don't you think so, Hawke?” Varric voiced out, and Hawke wasn't sure if it was to save him from further embarrassment. “Yes, I think we can reach an agreement. We'd be more than willing to help you get rid of those pesky slavers if you would lend us your hand in return.” Hawke said, hoping others too would ignore his awkward flirty comment.

Fenris glanced at him thoughtfully and nodded after a pause. “Yes. You have more than helped me, getting rid of my chasers. I am in your debt.”

Hawke smiled at the elf, ready to introduce him to his merry group of not so well behaved friends.

“Great. I'm Vincent Hawke, this is my brother Carver. The charming dwarf here is Varric and the lovely lady is Isabela. Pleased to meet you. Where are you staying?”

“A motel called The Mansion in the Hightown,” Fenris stated as he grouched over the corpse of the leader of the bandits. The empty hole in the man's chest was still seeping blood but Fenris didn't seem to care. He dug in his pockets and found an official looking document and another pistol with some extra casings, plus some cash. He stared at the paper for several moments with a thoughtful expression before pocketing it, then handed the rest of the findings to Hawke and his friends.

“You can take these. Feel free to see to the rest of their belongings. I will send you a message shortly, with my contact information. And here, this is what I can do for now. I am still indebted to you.” Fenris said, and thrust a pile of cash in Hawke's hand. Not staying to listen to any answers, he turned his back to them and disapppeared in the shadows of the slums, where he came from.

“Well... wasn't that an interesting introduction. That broody sex appeal is just to die for!” Isabela exclaimed enthusiastically. Varric chuckled, amused, and Carver seemed uncertain what to make of the situation and gave his brother a warning glance. It told him to be careful with the person called Fenris who just had made his way into their lives.


	3. A Door Ajar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya, trying to start writing longer chapter. I have ideas bouncing around, just trying to tie them together. Also, again English is not my native tongue so anyone who could spare the time to proof read for me, would be greatly appreciated. Feedback is always welcome!

“Want a ride, handsome?”

Hawke turned around to face the jeep that had just stopped by the pavement. He reached the vehicle with three short steps. He grinned at Isabela, who had reached over the passenger's side to open the door and was now tapping the empty seat next to her, a suggestive smile gracing her lips.. 

“From you, Isabela, always,” Hawke laughed and hopped in the jeep. The worn out jeep seemed unlike the rogue's usual expensive tastes' – it was most likely stolen from some crook Isabela had hustled. After losing her airship in a battle she was still very tight lipped about, Isabela had made a habit of moving on stolen wheels around Kirkwall, most being abandoned after a week's use or less if they were reported stolen. But considering the company the woman kept, they were not likely to contact the guards for any help. And thus she was safe to continue her practice.

Hawke watched as Isabela fished a lipstick from her jacket pocket and used the car's side mirror to apply the dark rouge on her lips. With a finishing smack of her lips she turned back to the mage.

“I'm heading the Hanged Man for drinks. Want to join?” She asked.

“You know me better than to ask,” he laughed. “And it's about time I'd win back those sovereigns you cheated off me in the last game of Wicked Grace.”

“Me, cheat? Never!” She gave him a mock hurt look and Hawke snorted in response. She shifted gears and sped down the empty road as she continued, “You think you can get Mister Dark and Mysterious to join us eventually? I'm itching to know how drunk I need to get him for some strip poker.”

“Fenris? Be careful, Bela, he doesn't seem like the type to go down easy.” He replied but Isabela seemed to only get more enthusiastic. “You know I like a challenge,” she purred and winked at him.

They were greeted by loud drunken laughter as they entered Varric's suite. Merrill was first to greet them, happily jumping to give them both a hug. “Hawke! Isabela! I'm sooo happy to see you!” The red tips of her ears and a bright blush of her cheeks were telling. Behind her Varric chuckled and raised an empty whiskey bottle for them to see. “We started early, but I'm sure you won't mind. Cards?”

They all sat around the table set in the middle of the room. Anders and Aveline were present as well, but Carver was nowhere to be found. Hawke frowned at the empty chair. Probably getting in trouble somewhere again. Carver was only 18, but he was hardly a good student. Then again, Hawke had a lot of sympathy for his younger brother. First father, then Bethany, then mother... it had almost destroyed him as well. Things weren't easy.

Hawke seated himself between Varric and Aveline, and lowered his voice slightly as he addressed them both.

“Have you found anything out? I mean, so far he's been a great asset – taking out those robbers in Hightown was a breeze with him, but I'd like to know more about the people I work with.”

“Through official channels there isn't much to go with... I can't find him on any records. I don't know if Fenris is even his real name.” Aveline gave him a disapproving glance. “You always seem to attract the most shady people, Hawke. You need to be careful. Although,” she sighed and ran her hand through her short red hair, “I'm here too, aren't I? My chief isn't happy with me, you can bet on that.” She brought the beer glass to her lips and emptied it.

“Hey now, we lot aren't that bad. Well, at least not as bad the ones we you help catch.” Varric lifted his hands defensively, but hadn't stopped smiling. He went to refill Aveline's glass despite her lame objections. “Anyway, Hawke, I heard plenty of rumours but I can't be sure how much of it is legitimate... he has sure been quite succesfull at staying low key, despite his appearances – you'd think an elf like him would get a lot of attention. He has been on a run for quite a long time, I could find rumours about a tattooed elf killing slaver from a couple of years ago. Who knows how long he has been on the run. But you know the whole business is very hush hush, even in Tevinter. A big, ugly underbelly. It's all tied in one way or another. Slavery, prostitution, drugs, guns... Many people are afraid to talk.” He sighed and shook his head. “I'm sure the poor sod has been through hell, and I get why he hasn't been sharing it with us. But I hope I can hear the whole story some day. Would make for a great book – the man who rose and conquered those who once oppressed him.”

Hawke rolled his eyes at his friend. Even though the dwarf hadn't published any of his novels in a few years, he seemed to be always planning several in his mind. Once a story teller, always a story teller. But, Hawke didn't want the subject to sour his friends' mood tonight. As he glanced at them, he could see Isabela acting out a particularly naughty anecdote to them, and watched as Anders struggled to not spit his beer all over Merrill who was sitting opposite him, when Isabela proceeded to slap herself on the ass three times while shouting gibberish. They were all quickly keeling over with laughter and Hawke regretted missing what ,must have been a riveting tale. He grabbed the glass of whiskey Varric offered him and loudly demanded a retake of what he had missed.

 

A week later Hawke made his way to the hotel Fenris was habiting at the time – he had changed accommodation several times already in the month the mage had known him. Truly, a man pursued.  
Despite the talk he had had with Aveline and Varric a while ago, he still knew the elusive elf for mainly one thing – his distaste of mages. When the elf had learned that not only was Hawke one, but he associated with 'an abomination' and a Dalish blood mage, he had thrown an impressing fit. Still, amazingly, Fenris still remained at Hawke's side.

Hawke tried his best to understand. He could never understand what the former slave had had to endure in the grasps of those like him. Like him... that thought disgusted him. He would never use blood magic, or in any way hurt another person for his personal gain. Fenris had made very clear his dislike for Anders and Merrill, and he couldn't completely rebuff him. Hell, he often had problems dealing with the decisions the two had made. But still, they were his friends and he wanted to protect them.

He found his way to Fenris' door in the sleazy motel he had found refuge in. He felt nervous, as the last time he and the elf had parted with fighting words. Yet, he also felt grateful for the other man's input. In forced him to the a more objective look at his companions' and his own actions. Hawke wondered why Fenris still offered his services to him, even tho he had been nothing but hostile lately. Nevertheless, he found himself knocking on the door and waited for the man's reply. After a minute the door opened.

 

”Hello, Hawke... is there something you want?” Fenris raised an eyebrow as he stared at Hawke, with a dull look on his face. To Hawke, this was a good sign. No outright hostility. Must be the wine. Good, he made sure to make the most of it.

“Hello,” Hawke echoed happily, right away feeling quite stupid. But who could blame him? He was distracted, to say the least.

Fenris stood at the door of the hotel room, staring at him with a bottle of wine in his hand. To Hawke's surprise, he wasn't wearing his usual armor. Heavy, black leather pants with one weapon belt with a knife attached yes, but for a top only a black tank top that he usually probably wore under his usual armor. The muscles of his arms was quite apparent as he moved to open the door wide, meanwhile bringing the wine bottle in his other grasp to his lips. Not that Hawke noticed any of that, of course.

”I have a new job you might like. Want to hear me out? And, that wine looks awfully tempting, have enough to spare?” Hawk grinned, staring at Fenris, who just shrugged and moved back into his room in an open invitation. To his delight, Fenris didn't seem to care. It seemed that the fight from their last meeting was forgotten, or at least forgiven. The warrior took a long gulp out of his wine bottle and turned to Hawke again.

”I suppose it has something to do with the deaths in the Bone Pits? I heard from Aveline. In that case, I shall accompany you.”

“When did you strike such a close friendship with Aveline?” Hawke asked curiously and found a seat in one of the two chairs of Fenris' small room. He looked around briefly – the only personal items Fenris had on display were two large weapon cases on the bed.

“I wouldn't call it that,” Fenris answered, as he moved to get another glass for Hawke, to the man's satisfaction. “She is quite passionate about weeding out the criminal elements in the city and I appreciate her efforts. I merely offered my servitude.”

“Hmm,” Hawke voiced as he accepted the wine Fenris offered him. He thanked the man and tasted the deep red drink - sweet, but very strong. He could taste the comfortable tang of alcohol. As he observed Fenris, it was obvious what drew the man to the drink. Without enjoying Fenris downed the remnants of the bottle and grabbed a new one from the floor. He sat down on the other chair and stared at the bottle thoughtfully, rolling it around in his hands.The white hair fell down to cover most of his brilliant green eyes. Only after that he glance up at Hawke. 

Hawke swallowed slowly and a friendly smile rose to his face. Don't be ridiculous, he told himself. He had to control himself. This was not the time for any foolishness. “Anyway, you're correct. There's a factory in there and the workers said monsters have invaded the plant. Some people are gossiping about dragons. The area is full of old mining tunnels, so who knows. Interesting isn't it? I've never seen dragons in real life.”

“Neither have I,” Fenris replied and took a deep gulp of his new wine bottle.

He gave Hawke a curious look. He rarely agreed with the man, but still, Hawke somehow always found his way to his crummy hotel rooms. Yes, he had offered to help the man but many times they had no business to talk about – Hawke merely said he was there to check upon a friend. That made Fenris suspicious. He barely knew the man, yet he acted so outright friendly with him. Granted, he acted the same way with the other people he called his friends. But when Fenris disagreed with those “friends”, namely the blood mage and the abomination, after an argument Hawke returned to his warm approach. It was utterly odd. What did the mage seek to gain from him? In his world view, people did not act out of kindness. People always wanted something, somehow tried to benefit from whatever situation. As a former slave, he knew there was always an ulterior motive to people's action. Even the most gentle dog could have the strongest bite.

“It was in the news yesterday, actually. People always love a good old monster story,” Hawke chuckled and took another sip of his wine. It was quite good. Full bodied and felt warm as it slid down his throat. He took another gulp and Fenris leaned forward in his seat to fill his glass. Hawke felt a smile spread on his face.

Fenris snorted and drank his wine. “I do not have a television here,” he stated and stood up. He walked to his bed and lifted up a semiautomatic gun with his wine free hand.. Turning it around the elf inspected the gun critically. Suddenly Hawke thought that he hadn't seen the large greatsword Fenris had since their first meeting. That gave him a thought.

“Why don't you bring your greatsword this time? I'm curious to see you in action.” Hawke grinned and ignored the innuendo of his words. Luckily, Fenris did the same and nodded. 

“I suppose it would be of use. If there really are dragon, a sword would be more efficient than bullets against them,” he nodded and turned to meet Hawke again with his glance. His movement were not as steady as usual, and he quickly found refuge in his chair.

“Alright. We will meet at 8 in the morning at the city gates, that alright for you?” Hakwe questioned and grinned suddenly. “The hangover won't be an issue?” He teased, and before he could stop himself, he found himself grapping the wine bottle in Fenris' hands, overlapping the elves' long elegant fingers.  
Fenris jerked away at the contact, and Hawke felt an apology rise to his lips. But before he could say anything, Fenris stood up again and took another swig from the bottle before he shaking his head.

“No, it won't be a concern. I will see you in the morning then,” he motioned towards the door as a clear hint that it was time to leave.

Hawke sighed in slight disappointment and emptied his glass, which he placed on a the dress table next to the door.

“Right... See you tomorrow then. Good night,” he wished and closed the door without looking behind him. He knew Fenris wouldn't respond to him anyway.


End file.
